


Corrupted Flower

by Morbus Aegraque Scribo (TheDarkFlygon)



Series: Bad Things Happen to the Wrong People Because It's More Romanesque That Way (BTHB) [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Assassin Harukawa Maki, Assassination Attempt(s), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Ballroom Dancing, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Prince Momota Kaito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/Morbus%20Aegraque%20Scribo
Summary: Nemesis is a hitwoman-to-hire. She's merciless, sharp and effective.That was until the day she slipped. The day she fell for someone and the day she failed to kill her target.Her arrow missed by a margin, but her intentions didn't.





	Corrupted Flower

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card!  
> https://morbusaegraquescribo.tumblr.com/post/177380574551/here-is-your-card-for-bad-things-happen-bingo  
> Prompt: Shot with an Arrow
> 
> It could have been more whump-focused than that, but I go severely sidetracked there, haha...  
> First time writing a Makaito-centric story! I know it's very "slow burn what slow burn", but whatever. It was still fun to write, dont @ me.  
> Also yeaaaah the ending is a bit rushed, I'm sorry hehe

_You need to kill the Prince, Nemesis._

 

This sentence was ingrained in her brain. It had been said to her and written for her. As she prepared herself for the ball, dressing in a gown that was not hers and wearing someone else’s mask, she couldn’t help but think about who she was supposed to target.

What was the swiftest way to kill royalty? She had been tasked with killing nobles before, but countryside dukes with little to no actual protection were easy targets: she could just bribe the guards with promises she did not intent on keeping in exchange of leaving her alone with the duke, face him when he was alone and strike him with an arrow in the chest before disappearing into the night. This was going to be someone else, hence the disguise she was wearing.

 

For this, she would have to give up her usual strategy of using her alluring eyes to trick guards into doing what she wanted them to. Instead, she would rely on her accuracy with long-range weapons: under her dress making her look like an innocent princess, she had a small crossbow and a handy kit just-in-case. She had one arrow, her only chance she could transport on herself without seeming overly suspicious.

Her counterfeit invitation in her hand, her mask concealing her real identity, she became someone else: the dark and menacing Nemesis would give her place to the marquise of Rubens, the youngest daughter and last unmarried female of the influential Rouge bloodline. Where the real Marquise had gone, she didn’t know: someone else had taken care of that.

 

In the dark of the night, she made her way to the party, presenting her invitation without a single issue. It seemed like the sheer (and yet fake) quality of the paper had been enough to trick these guards into letting an assassin slip into their prestigious party, not knowing that her mission would turn the party into a bloody funeral.

She didn’t care about crashing whatever “party mood” there was. It was just a masked ball like she had been to tons of others under the disguise of rich and noble-blooded women she was not. Lachesis had always been good at making her look like a real noblewoman, hiding the dark truth under her fancy clothes. All she cared about was making her mission succeed to live another day.

 

The people at the ball were all dressed in a similar fashion: gowns, tailor-made suits, sparkles and incrusted gems. All she had to do was to find the perfect opportunity to get to a high spot and shoot an arrow at her target. Glancing around the room, she found an inside balcony that would be perfect for this role: she just had to find a staircase leading to it.

All she knew about her target was that he was a young prince around her age, usually dressed in royal purples, with hair in spikes and purple eyes. All her eyes had to spot was a man wearing a lot of this colours, but a few men across the ballroom seemed to match this description. She would have to find the right one: she only had one shot at this. She couldn’t get mistaken.

 

Looking across the room as she grabbed a cup of champagne, trying her hardest to look like a legitimate guest, she tried spotting the staircase. Despite the sea of people flowing across the room, she could distinguish steps going up from them to the balcony going all around the walls. It seemed to be this way: with the people distracting each other, it’d be easy to get there and do her deed. After all, all she needed to do was to shoot an arrow at the prince and leave swiftly while everyone else panicked. It was an easier plan than she had expected coming in.

Now, she needed to spot the prince. Her bad luck was that they were in a disguised ball: he would wear a mask just like everyone else, as not to get spotted easily. In the end, she’d have to trust her hearing and what people around her said. Kind of a bother, but still better than throwing away her sole shot and throw her life in jeopardy with that.

 

People asked each other on dances. She had learnt to dance just for this very purpose: sometimes, she could easily poison her target’s drink when she did so, profiting of her “partner” paying more attention to their moves than to hers. However, this time, she had come in with a crossbow: she would just use dancing to spot the target this time around.

She put back the undrunk cup of champagne on the table when a voice seemed to call for her or, at least, went to her general direction.

 

“Miss,” a male voice said to her, “would you give me this dance?”

She considered the offer for a few moments, before turning fully towards him. He was a man taller than her, seemingly in his late teens, clad in purples, hair in spikes, smiling with his hand given to her. He seemed to be the prince: she needed to confirm her suspicions.

“Sure thing.”

 

She put her hand in his and they started dancing amongst the other couples for an evening. Why he had chosen her among everyone in the room was a mystery: there were many other women in fancier clothing and shiny jewels waiting for a dance with such a beautiful young man; and yet he had picked her out of these women.

His moves were a bit rough and quick, but she had no trouble truly keeping up with him. She could hear whisper of who seemed to be jealous bystanders envying her, glaring at her with hatred and ire. Whatever. It was the only time in her life she’d see these people. Maybe they’d end up becoming her targets one day. Her future was uncertain, she had no time to worry about these insignificant people in the long run.

 

She did not know why she had to kill the prince of this country. She had been hired by what seemed to be an extremist group trying to overthrow the monarchy. Honestly, she did not care for the reason: she just killed because she was hired and paid to do so. No reason was needed for her services: if she nit-picked on reasons, she may have refused the biggest pays.

The bounty she was going to get from this mission was the biggest yet. She could almost decide to change lifestyles with all the money she’d get: move at the other side of the country, create her own shop and become a regular civilian. Being a hitwoman wouldn’t last forever: perhaps this was her last mission. She sure hoped it was her last kill.

 

“Who have I the pleasure to dance with?” he asked her, eyes shimmering under the lights.

“Is the point of a masked ball not to discover the other’s identity?”

Whenever people asked her about personal information, she would mostly ask questions back.

“You are not who you pretend to be, am I wrong? You are not the marquise of Rubens.”

She was taken aback. How had he guessed her fake identity and, above all, how had he seen through her disguise?

“Sir, what gives you these nonsensical thoughts?”

He smiled sheepishly at her question, almost silently making fun of her.

“The Rouge bloodline wears this magnificent collar you are currently wearing around your neck. This is how I knew you were the marquise of Rubens invited to this ball. However, you seem to have forgotten about their other family jewel: the ruby earrings the marquise always wears.”

If he was bluffing, he was incredibly good at it. Her face may have betrayed her initial shock of surprise.

“Who are you, then, beautiful rose?”

Despite the obnoxious nature of that compliment, she felt herself blush. She had never been complimented on her appearance outside of Lachesis’s costumes.

“My identity is not important. I am but a masked woman attending this ball.”

“Would you tell me if I told you my identity?”

“Perhaps.”

 

They twirled around the ballroom for a few more moments, the whispers drowning in the music and the embrace of this dance.

“I am certain you have already figured my identity out,” he told her.

“You are no one other than the prince. It is an honour to have this dance with you.”

She knew she was pretending to be honoured, fully knowing he would end up being her victim later this night; yet it felt like it genuinely came from her chest.

“You still have not told me your true identity. Do not worry, I can hold a secret very well.”

“You did not tell me your own by yourself. I do not have a reason to give mine.”

“You are right, milady. Your red eyes tell me you are not the marquise. If so is your wish, you shall remain unknown to me.”

She wanted to thank him, but her cold façade could not be broken at any moment. Staying emotionless was the best way to remain a shadow in this world.

 

People around them were changing partners, but the prince’s hands stayed in hers.

“Do you mind according me this second dance, milady?”

Did she want to dance with anyone else? Did she want to tell him no? Her objective said yes, her heart said no.

“Let us dance together again.”

There was something about his warmth that made her feel unusual. It felt powerful, yet reassuring: how had this man not gotten a bride yet? Surely someone would have wanted to marry such a fine man… What was she thinking? He was no man. He was a _target_.

“Tell me something about you, just one,” he said. “I wish to know more about you.”

“Why do you want this? I will disappear in the dark of the night and never be seen again.”

He seemed saddened by it, but it was not in her mission to sympathize.

“Are you a red-clad Cinderella, then? You seem to come from a fairy-tale.”

“I am a shadow, someone who does not exist. You are of royal blood. We do not belong to the same world.”

“Then, how are we dancing together in the same room, your hands in mine? Milady, you exist. You are a fine woman currently dancing with a prince. I would not dance with anyone in this room but you.”

“This is an honour, my prince, but I am afraid you are misguided. I am not who you think. I am harmful and dangerous for anyone who is near me. I would advise you not to stay with me.”

“I am a man of risk. I am willing to do anything just to stay with you.”

“Why so? I am not of noble blood nor am I a rich bourgeoise.”

“This is exactly why you fascinate me. You are different from all these other shallow people who come here to get my good graces and take advantage of my powers. I do not know why you are here, but I am enjoying your company immensely.”

 

She did not have the heart to break the news to him. She could feel a familiar feeling of loneliness come out of his words. Maybe they… were not this different, after all.

“You called me a rose earlier. Nobody has ever complimented me this way before.”

“How come? You are marvellous, a real jewel. In fact, you were too beautiful to pretend to be the marquise.”

“You are flattering me, my prince.”

She should cut loose already. He was going to make his murder too difficult for her to handle if she continued buying into his feelings. Nemesis was drowning in his purple eyes.

“Will you leave this palace at midnight?”

“Perhaps.”

“I wish there were more people like you to these balls. I have wanted to meet someone like you for what feels like an eternity. I wish you were able to stay by my side.”

“I… wish I could do so too. Alas, I am a shadow. I cannot accept your proposal.”

Why did she… feel understood? She was supposed to feel nothing. Why was she feeling so queer?

“Are we not two lonely souls?”

“I suppose so.”

 

Why did he have to make this so difficult? This was supposed to be a simple mission now that she knew the prince’s identity…

“Yet…” she spoke up first. “What tells you I am not as shallow as the others?”

“Do you have anything to gain from allowing me to discover you are a fraud?”

“I do not. You will never see me again anyway, so I do not lose much either way.”

“I wonder. Do you have freedom when you run into the night?”

“It is a freedom you would not want, my prince. Nobody would want it but the lost souls with no other resort.”

“Could you come back to me one day, milady?”

She could not have expected what had dropped from her mouth with a slight smile.

“Perhaps so, once I am free of my current duties.”

The smile on his face was worth more than her bounty, filling her with this unfamiliar warmth all over again.

“I appreciate this immensely, milady.”

 

As the music stopped, knowing the time to strike was soon, she lowered her head from his shimmering glaze.

“I’m sorry…”

“Why so?” he asked back, worried.

The clock rang midnight before she could add anything else. The crowd gather around the bigger staircase leading to a stage. It was her chance. Their hands broke lose, perhaps surprising the prince, as she rushed to the smaller stairs on her heels, the noise muffled by the human cacophony the crowd was making.

 

As she made her way there, running around the balcony to reach a spot where she could fire her sole arrow, she observed the crowd. They were turning to the stage as the prince, the man she had danced with all along, made his way there. Once she had the perfect position, facing him with an astonishing accuracy.

Nemesis lifted her dress swiftly, taking her crossbow in her arms, an eye squeezed shut and the other open, ready to fire death. It was the ideal time to strike: nobody had noticed she was way over them, all of them distracted by the royal speech about to take place. She charged her only arrow in.

 

Yet, despite how sure she was that her arrow would pierce right the right place, she hesitated. Her hands were shaking on the handle. Her thoughts were raging inside her skull, filling her mind with the words of the prince willing to give her respect when she was such an underling.

For the first time in her life, Maki felt like she didn’t have a reason to kill someone.

 

Her vision blurred from the tears flowing to her eyes, preventing her from seeing accurately. Her fingers were slipping from the handle. She had to shoot now… or she would never shoot. In both cases, she would resort to fate: either it killed, or she would be killed unless she disappeared into the night, alone.

Taking what seemed to be her last breath as a free person, she fired her only arrow in the prince’s chest, apologizing in silence, weeping to herself without a word.

_“I’m sorry…”_

 

The atmosphere turned from light-hearted and luminous to a sudden panic. Putting her crossbow inside her leg holder again, she wiped her tears to observe what she had done with her bloodied hands. Under her eyes were the prince, red tainting his purple clothes, people surrounding him.  She had committed a grave mistake by attempting to fulfil that mission. He didn’t deserve to be killed by anyone that way.

She got up for her crouching position, but her legs remain frozen once she did so. She could only contemplate the mistake she had made and the guilt splashing all over her from her acts. These hands may not have been bloodied directly: they still were dirtied by what she had done.

 

A finger was pointed towards her from the stage. The prince was looking at her from the stage, glaring at her with eyes struggling to stay open. The arrow hadn’t lodged into his chest, as she had intended, but in his left shoulder, its tail facing her like a clock’s spire faced the twelve.

Adrenaline soon overcame her body. She had to run for her life, run for it, run for the exit and vanish into the night before she could get killed by the guards. She rushed for the small staircase, hoping to make it, ready to jump above the crowd. However, before she could do that, two guards grabbed her arms, preventing her from moving despite her attempts at freeing herself.

 

“Bring her to me…” The voice of the prince resonated inside her head like guilt pounding across her heart.

The guards went through with the command, throwing her to the ground in front of him. He was now on his knees, clutching his shoulder, his fingers slowly dripping with blood as red continued to stain th rich purple of the shimmery fabric.

“This why you came here…” He spoke up again, voice still struggling to come out, pain enlaced all over every syllable. “Why did you do that…?”

She got up, took the crossbow from under her dress and threw it to the ground.

“I was hired to kill you. That was… my purpose.”

Her own voice faltered as the tears came back.

 

“Burn the witch!” was screamed by the audience observing was what herself signing her death contract.

“Kill the traitress!” was yelled by the bystanders disgusted at her.

“Behead the murderer!” was chanted by the crowd glaring at her in rage.

“Stop this ruckus…”

 

The voice of the prince, no matter how weakened, had made the enraged chanting come to a halt.

“You didn’t kill me…”

“I tried to. It was my objective. I was tasked with assassination. It’s all that matters.”

“Did you really want to do it…?”

That question had an obvious answer, now.

“No.”

“Was this why you told me you were sorry…?”

“Yes.”

“Please kneel down…”

 

She executed the order with no hesitation. It was her time of dying, huh. She hadn’t expected the mission to turn this way, but she had always been ready to die today or tomorrow. Her life was dangerous. She had seen it coming.

“Rise your head and look at me…”

She did what he asked, her mask dropping to the ground as she did so. Her tears were back: she couldn’t see his face clearly.

“You’re crying… You really regret it, don’t you…?”

As she let her tears flow down her cheeks, she nodded. He brushed a weak finger against her right one, gathering a tear around his nail.

“I’m willing to forgive you under one condition, then…”

“You cannot forgive her, Prince Kaito!” and “Do not forgive her, Mr Momota!” rose from the assembly, but he didn’t seem to listen to them.

 

This was a surprise. This guy was willing to forgive for… trying to kill him? What had gone through his mind?! Yet, no matter how strange that was, it felt reassuring to her heart and she was all ears, as if she had dropped the lonely wolf lifestyle she had sworn by since her childhood. It wasn’t like she had any other solution: she’d be dead otherwise.

“Will you give me your identity… and stay with me…?”

“My name is Maki Harukawa. I was a hirewoman. I pledge my loyalty to you, my prince.”

“Good…”

 

He grunted in pain, clutching his shoulder harder and losing his balance in her arms.

“I’m… so sorry for this. Let me make it less painful.”

“Do not trust her!”, the assembly screamed.

She didn’t listen and instead opened the holder she had on her left leg. She always had a first-aid kit on her in case it turned sour for her: it was time to use it on him. Making him lean against a wall, she carefully tried to remove as much cloth as possible around the injury.

 

“It’s going to hurt. Are you ready?” She asked, hand on the arrow.

“Go for it…”

With a dry and swift move of her hand, with no hesitation, putting the frustration she had against herself into her shot, she removed the arrow in one go. The prince screamed afterwards, clenching his teeth to muffle it as much as possible. Not letting the wound the time to infect itself, she took off his clothes and, once facing his bare and bloodied skin, took his undershirt back in her hand and pressed it against the wound, blood tainting the white fabric and her hands. After pressing it for what felt like hours, she had finally stopped the haemorrhage enough to proceed.

She then grabbed the bottle of alcohol she had on her, pouring its contents over the wound. His pained screams made her heart shake in pain, but she kept on, wrapping everything with the bandage roll she had next to the bottle.

“This is flimsy at best, my prince. You’ll need further medical procedures.”

“I know that… I’m sure the guards have taken care of this already…”

 

He was about to lose consciousness, eyes fluttering, but he wrapped her against him.

“If any of you try to harm her… I’ll make sure to make you pay…”

“It’d only be retribution, my prince. I deserve punishment.”

“Not in their hands… You do not if you were pushed into doing this…”

She felt a smile appear on her face

“I am forever grateful for your forgiveness, my prince. I shall protect you from now on. Please get some rest.”

He weakly smiled back before his eyes closed.

 

On this day, Nemesis died, giving her place to the prince’s personal guard. Her allegiance would be no laughing matter, swearing to protect him at all costs with the sabre on her hip.


End file.
